


Of Abs and Steel

by Rhysanoodle



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: All characters are the property of Sarah J. Maas





	Of Abs and Steel

Ugh! He couldn’t believe it! How could his favorite author have done this to him? Dorian was fuming toward the library in search of more books to take his mind off the fact that Tamlin had really just stolen Feyre back to the Spring Court, and that Feyre was now the High Lady of the Night Court! He hadn’t seen that coming. How was he supposed to wait another year to find out the resolution of that cliffhanger?!

Dorian had no idea which books he was interested in reading next, but he needed something to take his mind off the book hangover he was already experiencing — something to keep him from writing too many of his own fictions about the work or just reading it over and over again — which would likely still happen anyways.

His path from his bedroom to the library took him through the courtyard and past the training grounds where he spotted the captain of the guard leading his guards through their daily drills.

Chaol had been his best friend since their childhood days, and while he wasn’t usually one to indulge in fantastical works, perhaps Dorian could persuade him to read these works — if only so Dorian could have a confidant to ramble to about all the crazy theories eddying around in his head.

Dorian had been slacking off with his training lately and preferring reading to exercising, at least at the intense level that his guards strove for on a daily basis.

As he turned his head to look at Chaol, his friend signaled for the guards to take a break, and stepped over to the bench he’d set his flagon of water on. Shedding his sword and his shirt in the process, he took huge swigs of the beverage, due to the scorching summer heat that Adarlan was subjected to, and then grabbed his discarded shirt, using it as a rag to wipe down his sweaty face.

By the Wyrd. Dorian couldn’t look away from his handsome face, with his sweat-slicked hair, and the glistening abs running the length of his torso. He felt a twinge of something in his pants as he cursed himself. He’d seen Chaol in all his glory plenty of times. They’d practically grown up together and had seen each other in various states of undress numerous times, but they had been lanky and gangly as teenagers. Dorian still was just now beginning to see some definition in his own form, years of hard work and the blessings of puberty finally paying off for him. And now…Dorian was just noticing for the first time how powerful and muscular Chaol had become in recent months.

His toned arms were gleaming, and Dorian could just imagine Chaol scooping him up in them, feeling safe in his sturdy embrace. He could swear that most men he’d seen just had a six-pack of abs, but he could count at least eight perfectly defined muscles on Chaol, the desire to lick up the column of them excruciatingly vivid. And below them, a perfect v-shape gesturing into the low-slung shorts that Chaol was wearing, beckoning him inward, inviting him to see if anything else on his friend had become more well-defined, and — Dorian swerved as he narrowly missed the wooden beam that had sprung up in front of him.

He’d been so consumed with staring at Chaol, so lost in these feelings he’d never realized he had in him, now suddenly unsure that the high-born lady he’d been casually seeing was really the only one he could be happy with, that he’d damn-near knocked himself out.

He shook himself off, trying to steady himself, but as he began walking again, he glanced back over his shoulder, just in time to see Chaol pouring some extra water over his head in an attempt to cool off, and this time he wasn’t so lucky.

The image was still vividly burned into his mind as he rebounded off the doorframe and collapsed onto the floor, hoping nobody had noticed this little episode of his.

Surely enough though, Chaol sprinted over to him, lines of worry evident in that tan, radiant face and firm, supple lips of his which Dorian just wanted to reach up and kiss. Judging from the pain in his forehead and the swelling in one of his eyes though, he probably looked like shit right now, so he decided to keep that urge to himself for the time being.

Chaol wasted no time in scooping Dorian into his arms, making hastily for Dorian’s suite, and calling to another guard to send for a healer though. He murmured that Dorian should really watch where he was going, and wondered what was he so preoccupied with that he couldn’t just focus on making it to the library in one piece.

When Dorian asked Chaol how he knew that’s where he was going, Chaol simply smiled and replied that Dorian had been holed up in his rooms with his books for the past few days. It was only logical that he’d run out soon and need to make a restocking trip.

Silence fell over them after that, Dorian giddy at the notion that Chaol paid such careful attention to him and trying desperately to hide the physical symptoms which being in Chaol’s arms, flush against his damp, athletic chest was making more apparent.

His heart palpitations every time they took a step and his own skin grazed Chaol’s again were the least of his worries right now.

As they neared his rooms, Dorian tucked his head in the crook of Chaol’s neck, breathing in his heady scent, which made him dizzier than he already was due to the headwound, and thanking his friend for taking care of him.

As he was settled on his bed, and Chaol waited, seated on the edge of the mattress, right next to him, not taking his eyes off Dorian until the healer arrived, he couldn’t help but be grateful to his friend. The butterflies in his stomach at his presence were trumping the heavy hit to his pride.

Once the healer assured Chaol that Dorian would be fine and just needed to take some herbs for his head and to rest, the captain excused himself back to the training grounds to finish up his daily exercises, casting a smiling glance back at Dorian as he exited into the hallway.

The healing herbs quickly took effect and knocked Dorian into a deep and dreamless slumber, but when he awoke hours later, it was to a neat stack of books on his nightstand with a handwritten note from Chaol saying, “I didn’t want your injuries to be in vain. Hopefully these will tide you over during your recovery. I’ll be back to check on you after supper.”

Dorian grinned to himself and picked the closest book off the top, determined to be back in peak form sooner rather than later — if only so that he could begin attending the guards’ training sessions again. There was still a lot of swordplay for him to learn and new muscles for him to learn how to hone.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are the property of Sarah J. Maas


End file.
